


Watercolour

by kinoface



Category: Joe Jackson - Fandom, Mest
Genre: Gen, M/M, Paris (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-17
Updated: 2004-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinoface/pseuds/kinoface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The city feels like a portrait in motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watercolour

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this eight years ago! To the day! PROBABLY TO THE HOUR!!! Aaahhh this is my favorite obscure crossover pairing of all time, and the fact that I got OTHER people to write it too is one of my greatest fandom accomplishments. :D

Joe asks Tony if he's ever been to Paris, and when Tony says no Joe heads straight for the telephone without another word. Tony tries asking what's going on, but Joe doesn't answer him until much later, after he hangs up the phone for the last time and tells Tony to pack his bags. They're on an airplane the next morning.

~

Tony's in the cemetery, sitting in the gravel and leaning back against a slab of cracked, dirty stone, hidden away in the huge maze of graves and tombs. Joe is just up ahead, reading the words carved into some huge, towering tombstone, bent over slightly, hands clasped behind his back. The sun is out, shining through the gaps in the trees in broken pieces of soft, golden light. Tony says, "The time in this city feels strange."

"Oh?" Joe answers, without moving or looking up.

In this small corner of Pere Lachaise, with the trees looming overhead and death hanging on every breath, Tony feels cocooned. "It's like," he says, but isn't sure what there is to say. It's hard to concentrate on anything but the sights and sounds around him. "It's like everything is on pause and fast forward all at once." Joe doesn't say anything, but looks over at him, one eyebrow cocked, gravel crunching under his shoes as he turns in the dirt to face Tony. "Like forever," Tony says, because it's the best he can come up with. He beckons Joe closer and tries to explain himself. "Like the world is paused on this one moment, and it's all you'll ever have, but the moment just goes on and on."

Joe takes his hand, their dusty fingers locking together, and he looks amused as he smiles down at Tony. "Doing some rare deep thinking?"

"It just feels weird, is all."

"Stuck in time," Joe offers. His knees crack as Tony pulls him down to sit in the dirt, and everything around them is ancient and grey, shadowy beneath the trees. "That's exactly what this is," he says. "These people aren't going anywhere. Right here is forever."

"I like it," Tony says, holding Joe's hand in both of his own, and he smiles, his skin pure and white, eyes shining bright and blue in the shade. "I could spend forever like this."

~

They walk everywhere. They have a map but leave it in their hotel room, instead following whichever path looks most interesting and going wherever it takes them. They eat at bakeries in the morning, and aren't picky for lunch; one day they find themselves in the Jewish neighborhood and stop on the street for warm falafels, and another day they sit at a small iron table and eat crepes, licking their fingers clean afterwards and moving on. They walk the streets, taking in the whole city pieces at a time, sometimes skirting off into churches or small shops, sometimes talking about things they see, about anything, and sometimes they work their way silently through the city, content with each other's company. They stop to listen to the musicians and watch the artists, and they donate a handful of coins to all of them, though they ignore the street vendors selling charms and souvenirs. They walk through the courtyard of the Louvre, admiring the sculptures and scenery and never going inside the museum itself.

They eat dinner whenever they decide it's time, and then it's whichever restaurant comes first, and they take the time to relax as they eat, drinking wine and smoking each other's cigarettes. They use the Metro to find their way home and watch the lights come on like jewels over the city as they head back, and whatever energy they have left is put to good use when they get back to the hotel.

 

The city feels like a portrait in motion. A living, breathing work of art with perfect color and architecture, coming to life with the smell of perfume, fresh bread, and cigarette smoke, the taste of sweet crepes and the salt that hangs in the air, the music performed on street corners and drifting out of open windows, bits and pieces of conversations in every language. The city has a texture all its own, and Tony feels that he isn't living so much as letting life happen around him, and he finds something infinitely freeing in that.

Later, Joe will make some remark about getting his pants dirty with old gravel, but for now he leans closer and presses his lips to Tony's, and the sun shines warm and golden on their joined hands. Tony feels the dead all around him, stuck here in time, and he feels more alive than he can ever remember. Sitting here in Pere Lachaise, Joe by his side, Tony feels safe, and he wouldn't mind living in this moment for the rest of his life.

~

They watch the sun set over the Seine every night, and the Eiffel Tower looms in the distance wherever they go. Tony had never been here before, but he's here now, and now is all that matters, and he doesn't think he ever wants to go back.


End file.
